


Hopeless Romantics

by dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap



Category: Hopeless Romantics - Fandom
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 23:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10751811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap/pseuds/dirtydeedsdonedirtcheap
Summary: I am a hopeless romantic.I tend to fall in love very often and very easily.Some may think that’s a bad thing but I don’t.I like to put my entire heart into the situation.I want desperately for someone to piece my heart back together again.To make me whole.





	Hopeless Romantics

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. The song ‘I’m Yours,’ belongs to Jason Mraz.

I am a hopeless romantic. I tend to fall in love very often and very easily. Some may think that’s a bad thing but I don’t. I like to put my entire heart into the situation. I love to _love_ , but lately my love life has not been one for fairytales.

 

It feels like all my heart is experiencing is heartbreak. I feel bitter because all my other mates have significant others and me? Well, I _don’t_. I’m alone. I’m _heartbroken_. I want desperately for someone to piece my heart back together again.

 

To make me whole.

 

Sadistically, I jab a piece of chicken with my fork, glaring at the others around me who are whispering and giving me concerned looks. I _don’t_ need their sympathy. What I need, no, what I _want_ is for all the sappiness that’s going on to stop. I’m seconds away from gouging Ron’s eye out with my fork if he doesn’t stop making kissy faces at Hermione. She needs to _stop_ blushing.

 

It’s sickening.

 

(I’m so jealous.)

 

“Neville,” Dean says to the left of me, his hand reaches for my plate, snaking past the chicken and towards my cutlery. “The chicken was dead when they put it on your plate. You don’t have to torture it anymore.”

 

Well, Thomas! You can have it! I’ll use my bare hands to torture my chicken, cutlery or no cutlery I’m strangling something (or someone) by the end of the night. Might as well be this delicious basil chicken that’s right in front of me. It’s safer than attacking someone in a room filled with Aurors.

 

“All I’m going to say is that there are children in this room. The public displays of affection should be brought down to handholding,” I say, making a point to shake a disapproving finger at Ron and Hermione who ignore me.

 

I don’t actually believe what I’m saying. It’s just rather awkward to see Hermione and Ron loop their pinkies together and watch Susan and Seamus feed each other potatoes.

 

It’s repulsive.

 

They should all be ashamed of themselves.

 

“Mr. Longbottom, you’re supposed to be my date,” Hannah Abbot whispers into my ear.

 

I can’t help but groan and finger the white dinner napkin that’s resting on my lap. I didn’t want to come today but Harry has been through a lot, we all have. I owed it to him to be at his engagement party. Besides, I’m in the wedding, one of the many groomsmen. Hannah had practically forced me to be her date. It’s unfair really, you don’t ask someone to accompany you to an engagement party after they’ve gotten drunk off of four glasses of firewhiskey and they’re sulking over a failed relationship, stumbling outside the Leaky Cauldron, cursing love.

 

She’s clever.

 

Plus, Gran adores her so rejecting her was out of the question. She’s always dropping by and telling Gran the latest gossip. The only other poor soul (besides me) that’s affected by this new relationship is Ernie Macmillan. It’s obvious he has a crush on Hannah. Even now he’s glaring at me from another table.

 

I roll my eyes at her, placing my hands on hers. Her cheeks turn a shade of pink. She must’ve had a drink or two when I wasn’t looking.

 

“I’m here,” I whisper. “Aren’t I?”

 

You know what’s really bugging me? The fact that there are flowers and hearts scattered all around the room. I get it, you’re engaged Harry, you’re in love and you like things that smell good.

 

His happiness is giving me a headache. Love is overrated.

 

“You could at least _pretend_ you’re having a good time with me,” she says, squeezing my hand.

 

I don’t bother shoving her off. I mumble something about how nice she looks even though I haven’t really glanced at her properly all night. She’s probably wearing some sort of dress that’s some color and I’m sure it’s nice.

 

Hannah continues jabbering on and I nod at the appropriate times (or what I guess are the appropriate times). Instead of listening, I’m examining our table and all the people around us. The room is filled to the brim with Weasley’s; numerous ginger haired people are talking, laughing, eating and dancing.

 

Everyone seems to be having a good time.

 

“Look,” I say, cutting Hannah off rudely, her expression is less than amused. “Luna is coming this way. Hold my hand and lean in towards me. Laugh like I’ve said something funny.”

 

She scoffs, punching my arm with all her might. “You’ve said something funny alright. I just don’t think it’s laughable.”

 

I ignore her, my blue eyes glued to Luna who has passed our table and is gliding towards her own.

 

“It isn’t fair,” I grumble, watching as Luna and Rolf Scamander take their seats.

 

It’s as if I’m realizing the room for the first time. No, it’s not the room, it’s _her_. She’s the only person I see. The only person I _want_ to see. My eyes are glued to the way she gingerly falls onto her seat, the way her yellow dress shimmers even though the lighting is dim. Her blonde hair is in soft curls that fall down her shoulders and her gray eyes glaze over, lost in thought. Still, she’s smiling, completely aware of what’s going on.

 

Honestly, who really wants to date a magizoologist with a blonde mop of curls on their head and unnaturally white teeth? Sure he’s fit but he also has a _really_ big nose.

 

“She’s supposed to be dating me,” I moan pathetically.

 

Hannah rolls her eyes. “You went out on four dates Neville and _you_ ended it with her,” she reminds me rudely.

 

“Gran wasn’t her biggest fan.” My argument is only helping her case as she lifts one eyebrow in triumph. “ _But_ I could have patched that relationship up. If only _you_ would have invited her into the kitchen with you when the two of you were cooking for my birthday dinner,” I say.

 

She huffs; crossing her arms against her chest and then bites her lower lip, a nervous habit of hers. “She doesn’t know how to cook Neville…”

 

Everyone at the table is listening in on our conversation. They’re trying to be discreet about it by casting their eyes down and fidgeting with their food on their plates. It’s obvious though because Ernie keeps turning to Seamus who in turn is leaning over to whisper to Dean to find out what Hannah is saying.

 

“Our four dates were stretched for over four months,” I say loudly. There’s really no point in whispering. “So, we dated for _four_ months. They were a lovely four months. We were so in _love_ —“

 

“Alright!” she shouts angrily. “That’s enough. Listen up Neville,” she throws her napkin down, turning her entire body towards me. Her face is red and blotchy, a small pimple on her nose. “I didn’t _need_ a date. I would have came alone but I didn’t want—“

 

Before she can continue her rant, a smack on my back cuts her off.

 

“Trouble in paradise?” George Weasley questions, squeezing my shoulders. “Treat your girlfriend with respect. Life is too short for nonsense.”

 

“We’re _not_ dating,” I retort.

 

Before he can say anything else, Hannah quickly pushes her chair back and jumps out of her seat, pestering me to get up. “Excuse us George, Neville, come on,” she commands.

 

I grudgingly get up, walking past a few round tables and towards the white doors, thankfully out of earshot from all the nosy people at our table who have turned their bodies towards us and are watching us from their seats.

 

“What’s the problem? I’m _sorry_. I’m just heartbroken. I’ll try harder,” I apologize. It’s not entirely sincere but I want her to pity me. Maybe it’ll make her stop with her nagging and eye rolls.

 

She shakes her head and casts her eyes down towards the floor.

 

“You don’t get it. I wanted to come here with you but you’re _obsessed_ with Luna. I’m not trying to be harsh but she’s taken and they’re in love and I…I _want_ to be in love but you won’t even give me a chance.”

 

I’m rooted to my spot as she finishes her declaration, completely stunned by what she’s just said. She awkwardly kicks the wooden floor, wincing as she stubs her toe.

 

“But—what about Ernie?” I question dumbly.

 

“ _Ernie?_ ” she says with outrage, neck turning red. “Ernie is like a brother to me. I hoped tonight that you would realize I’m so much more than that silly girl from when we were kids who liked Herbology and thought Sirius Black could turn himself into a flowering shrub—“

 

I cut her off quickly, my eyes falling on Ernie who was shaking his fist at me. “A shrub?” I question with amusement, a smile forming on my lips. “Really?”

 

She scoffs. “That’s not the point. Neville, focus for one moment. I thought that after today there could be an _us_. It’s clear now that you don’t want an us. I truly believed…oh, I don’t know what I believed.”

 

Before I can say anything, Harry is standing up, shooting red sparks towards the ceiling with his wand, signaling for everyone to be quiet.

 

“Hello all,” he says awkwardly, coughing and adjusting his spectacles. “I just want to thank all of you for coming and celebrating this special day with us.”

 

“You’re welcome! Now, stop snogging my sister in front of me!” Ron shouts, jumping out of his chair.

 

“Here, here!” The rest of his brothers’ shout. They all laugh and wave at Harry, raising their drinks in the air.

 

“Thanks, Ron. Anyway, I’m happy all of you could come because let’s face it everyone in this room is family. I’m very lucky to say that I have a family because a long time ago I couldn’t have imagined anyone here to support me.”

 

The chatter that was still going on dies down at this, somber looks appearing on everyone’s faces. Mrs. Weasley is dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief in her husband’s arms.

 

“Oh! You’re welcome Harry. I know how much I mean to you!” George shouts, doing a bit of a jig in his obnoxiously lime green suit.

 

“Hush up!” Mrs. Weasley shouts, jumping out of her chair. “If one more of you boys interrupt him—“

 

Harry laughs, green eyes shining and quickly cuts her off. I take this moment to look at Hannah who is smiling at the interaction that’s going on.

 

“Thanks, George. Molly, _please_ put your wand down. It’s alright.”

 

“Sorry Harry! We love you! To Harry!” George shouts again, shaking his drink in the air and then bringing it to his lips.

 

“To Harry!” The rest of the room shouts, clapping.

 

“To Ginny,” he says. He turns his attention to Ginny who is sitting next to him, blushing but smiling up at him, happiness radiating off of her. “I was trying to say…I have never imagined my life turning out the way it has and really it’s thanks to all of you and this beautiful woman that’s sitting right here. She has decided to spend the rest of her life with me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” His voice breaks at the end and I feel a tickle in my throat, my eyes watering slightly.

 

“I spent so much of my time alone. I never thought I would meet someone as wonderful as you. I am so thankful for you. I am thankful that you love me day in and day out just as much as I love you. I am thankful you gave me a chance…and then a few more after that.”

 

Everyone laughs, including Ginny, as tears roll down her cheeks.

 

“I am not a man of many words but know that I love you. I always have and I always will…I’m yours.”

 

The entire room breaks out in applause and I’m forced to wipe the tears from my face, almost missing Hannah who rushes out of the room.

 

“Hannah!” I shout, running after her. The white swinging doors leading outside hit my body as they try to slam shut. “Wait!”

 

She stops, turns around in one quick motion and stares sadly at me. Black streaks are running down her face, which is still red and blotchy. She sniffles, clasps her hands together and shakes her head.

 

“For what?” she shouts, voice filled with anger. “If you’re going to apologize just save it. I don’t need your pity. I feel stupid enough as is. Watch out before stupid Hannah Abbot falls on the floor or accidentally turns someone into an elephant because her magic isn’t up to par. I’m _used_ to rejection,” she ends with a sniffle.

 

I can’t help it. It’s because of the nerves. I always say something stupid.

 

“An elephant? Really?”

 

“Oh, grow-up!” she snarls, hands pulling at her blonde hair roughly.

 

“Hannah, I’m joking. I’m sorry. I was a horrible date but what Harry said back there, it got me thinking.”

 

She shakes her head, a hand falling to the hem of her royal blue dress and her black heels digging into the red carpet. She slumps her shoulders forward, hanging her head.

 

“Neville, I get it. We’re _just_ friends. Forget everything I said. It’s just…I’m a hopeless romantic,” she whispers as I walk towards her slowly. “I love to love but all I experience is heartbreak. It’s okay. I’ve come to terms with it. No one is going to ever love me.”

 

I pause, soaking in the image that is before me. How could I have not noticed her before? Her blonde hair shines in the lighting. It isn’t limp and lifeless. It doesn’t just hang there like she always argues. Her red face, no, _pink_ face isn’t blotchy and her dress isn’t just a dress with some color. It’s royal blue and it compliments her figure nicely. The hem ends just above her knee. It’s the modesty I have been looking for all evening.

 

“I’m yours Hannah,” I whisper, “if you’ll still have me.”

 

“Excuse me?” she says, startled.

 

“Just,” I pause, trying to think of the proper thing to say. Inside, the party is going on strong. I can hear light music playing.

 

I remember faintly, when I had met Hannah earlier, she had gone on and on about her shoes and the proper heel to wear for dancing. I haven’t even asked her to dance once.

 

“Would you like to dance?”

 

She bites her lip, hesitation written all over her face. “I don’t know Neville…”

 

“Just one dance. Let’s start from there.”

 

Lightly, her fingers intertwine with mine and I lead her through the white swinging doors, towards the dance floor. Harry is twirling Ginny around as she throws her head back, laughing. All the young couples are doing the same, Ron and Hermione, Luna and Rolf. They’re all smiling and laughing while the older couples, the ones more seasoned with age, the ones that have been together for years, are swaying together, content smiles on their faces.

 

Nervously, Hannah stays at a distance from my body but I gently push her towards me, closing the gap between us. Her head rests on my chest as we gently sway together.

 

I am a hopeless romantic. I tend to fall in love very often and very easily. Some may think that’s a bad thing but I don’t. I like to put my entire heart into the situation.

 

I love to _love_.

 

When I opened my heart to her our relationship became a fairytale. By the third dance I was finally seeing clearly, appreciating what had been right in front of me all along.

 

After the third dance I was hers.


End file.
